


Blood of Vode

by silvergryphon



Series: Black and Gold Verse [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Everything Hurts, Gen, Order 66, and general trauma to Jedi, and whump for Jayna, nothing graphic but there are feels, so many feels, sucks to be an Empath sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-06 01:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12806835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvergryphon/pseuds/silvergryphon
Summary: Every clone remembered Umbara.It didn't matter if they'd been on that wretched planet that day. It didn't matter if they'd ever served under General Krell, or if they'd even met the treacherous Besalisk Jedi.Every clone remembered the day that vod had fired upon vod. Every clone knew the sick feeling in their guts that came with the realization that they could be turned upon one another.Jayna wept silently as she turned, aimed her blaster pistol, and shot down one of her brothers.





	Blood of Vode

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Thanksgiving!
> 
> This takes place about the same time as chapter 8 of Over the Years and chapter 8 of Growth.

 

 

Every clone remembered Umbara.

It didn't matter if they'd been on that wretched planet that day. It didn't matter if they'd ever served under General Krell, or if they'd even met the treacherous Besalisk Jedi.

Every clone remembered the day that vod had fired upon vod. Every clone knew the sick feeling in their guts that came with the realization that they could be turned upon one another.

Jayna wept silently as she turned, aimed her blaster pistol, and shot down one of her brothers.

"Keep going!" she shouted, backing up another step, then another. Training had taken over, allowing her to mechanically pick a target, aim, and shoot. She'd switched over to the Distaff's private channel shortly after the madness had broken out, but even still she could hear her brothers cry out in pain as she cut them down.

Behind her, leading the charge, that was Ace and Bullseye. She listened to them calling targets, still working together perfectly. Beside her, that was Commander Ayliah. Her red lips were pressed together in a white line as she batted away blaster bolts.

Jayna noticed that she couldn't bring herself to deflect those bolts directly back at their pursuers. The scarlet-skinned Twi'lek grimly sent them back, just to the side of the nearest vod, close enough to make him shy away just enough to throw off the aim of his next shot.

Between them, Tinker and Mercy half-carried Naroko.

The first warning any of them had had was their general's scream of anguish and agony as she'd doubled over. This had been one of the rare times they'd been assigned away from the Temple in the last year, being sent off to replace another Jedi healer on the front lines. Naroko had asked, and been permitted, to take her Padawan and the Distaffs on a scouting patrol. While they might be more or less on permanent infirmary duty because their Jedi's Empathic gift made her going onto an active battlefield nearly impossible, she still liked to mix up their routine a little, and give the Distaffs a chance to some field work.

When Naroko had collapsed, screaming and curled in on herself, Jayna had at first thought it was some new Separatist weapon, something targeted at their Jedi.

Then she'd looked at Commander Ayliah, and seen how her red face had gone so pale it was pink rather than red.

"They're killing them," she whispered numbly. "Force, they're killing them- they're killing the Jedi!"

Jayna had raised her hand to activate her wrist comm, and Ayliah had lunged forward, wild-eyed, and knocked her hand down again. "No!" she cried.

"Commander, I'm calling this in-"

"You _can't!_ " she said, still gripping her wrist. Jayna felt the bones in her wrist creak a little in protest. She'd looked around, searching every one of their buckets' faceplates as if she searched for something on the faces beneath. "It's the _clones! The clones are killing the Jedi!"_

There'd been a roaring in her ears. No. She couldn't have heard that right. That was wrong, that was impossible, that was-

_Dreams- the nightmare they all had. The faces they saw were all different, of course, but there was one thing in each dream was the same._

_The faces were always of a Jedi._

_Sometimes a Jedi they knew. Sometimes just a nondescript person in brown and beige robes with that iconic weapon at their side. Always a Jedi._

_And always the Jedi died._

_Always there was a blaster in the hands of the dreamer._

_Always the dreamer raised the blaster, aimed, and shot the Jedi down._

She wanted to throw up. The dreams had stopped for her and her sisters just weeks ago, when Naroko had heard from Master Shaak Ti, news about there being some odd, microscopic chip in the brain of each and every clone. Something had gone wrong with the chips in at least two vod, and there'd been some kind of uproar over the whole matter that they hadn't gotten all the details of. Their general and commander had discussed matters with the squad, and all five clones had asked to have their chips removed. After all, they served two of the best healers in the Order, what could go wrong? And the procedures had gone well- a day or two of minor headaches, but the only other side effect had been the end of the dreams.

Were they now seeing another?

Now they were running, as fast as they could, for the ships. Here wasn't safe for their Jedi, not with the vod having seemingly gone mad and enacting those horrible, horrible dreams. For the Distaffs, one mission remained clear:

_Protect the Jedi._

A shot came too close, flashing past Ayliah's defenses to score a hot line on her upper arm. She cried out, clapping her free hand to the wound even as she kept her blade moving. Jayna snarled something incoherent with fury and grief, snapped her blaster up, and burned down the vod who'd shot her commander.

She'd never known how hard it was to aim through tears.

Somehow, the seven of them stumbled into a clearing where a fueled shuttle lay waiting. Ace sprinted for the gangway, punching in access codes to open it as Bullseye covered her. Mercy had managed to rouse Naroko enough to get her to a stumbling walk. They were the next to dash across the open space to the ship, Tinker a grim-faced living shield between the Jedi and anyone approaching from that flank.

Then it was their turn.

"Commander, go!" Jayna shouted.

Ayliah looked at her. "Like _hell!"_ she cried. "I've got the lightsaber-"

"Which means you're the target for every trooper in ten square klicks, now _go!_ " Normally she didn't give Ayliah orders, but right now things were not normal.

The young Twi'lek opened her mouth to protest.

Jayna turned, planted a hand in the middle of her chest, and _shoved_ , sending her stumbling back several paces. "Don't make the General lose you too, dammit!"

That seemed to finally get through to her. She turned and sprinted across to the ship, pounding up the ramp under the protection of Tink's and Bullseye's covering fire. The engines were already firing up- Ace had reached the cockpit. In fact, Ace was so determined to get them the kriffing hell out of here that when Jayna ran for the ship, she had to jump and haul herself onto the ramp. A blaster bolt grazed the sole of her boot as she scrambled out of the line of fire, and then she was inside. The hatchway sealed behind her.

She stumbled in to the passenger compartment, all but ripping her helmet off and flinging it aside. Her sisters already had their own helmets off. Mercy and a very pale pink Ayliah flanked Naroko, who looked-

Terrible.

Their Jedi sat staring numbly at the wall past her Padawan and her medic. Her gold skin had taken on a pale, sickly hue, and tears streamed unheeded down her cheeks. Jayna had seen clones, single survivors who had watched their squads killed in front of them. Their anguish was an almost palpable thing.

Naroko's _was_ palpable, a wave of grief and pain and despair that pressed on them with a nearly physical weight. Jayna swayed under the force of it, slowly sinking to her knees.

"Master, _please_ ," she heard Ayliah beg. The Twi'lek gripped Naroko's shoulders, doing- something. Some Jedi thing Jayna had never fully understood, something to draw her Master out of that well of horrible despair and agony. She couldn't even tell if it was working. She just sat there, crushed under the weight of her general's pain.

And her own.

What had she _done?_ Clones- her _brothers_ \- had turned their weapons on Jedi, and she-

She had _killed them_. She'd seen at least a handful of the vod she'd shot drop and not move again. She had killed her brothers. She'd taken her blaster and she'd shot them and they were dead and what was _wrong_ with the universe? They had tried to kill her Jedi- and others were succeeding, if the general's catatonic state was anything to go by. She was still dimly aware of Ayliah still talking, begging, _pleading_ with her Master to come back to them, her voice thick with sobs. There was a roaring in her ears, and an odd wash of gray around the edges of her vision, and a single swirling thought going round and round her head.

_Your brothers tried to kill your Jedi. You killed your brothers. Vod are dead at your hand._

_Your brothers tried to kill your Jedi._

_You killed your brothers._

_Vod are dead at your hand._

_You killed them._

She had no idea what happened between Ayliah and Naroko. She had no idea when the oppressive weight of Naroko's grief began to lift, or when sense returned to those dark, slanted eyes. When she came to herself, it was to find herself on her hands and knees over a pool of vomit, bile burning in her mouth and throat. It took a moment to realize that the haze over her vision was the result of more tears. She blinked rapidly to clear them, rather than try and scrub her eyes on her vambrace.

She wasn't the only one who'd thrown up. Bullseye had likewise been sick with reaction to what they'd just done. Tinker looked shellshocked, but at least had not rejected the contents of her stomach. Of the four Distaffs in the compartment, only Mercy was on her feet, but she looked like a ghost, drifting through the little ship on autopilot as she checked vitals or went to collect canteens of water for them. She pressed one into Jayna's hand. Jayna stared numbly at it.

"Drink," Mercy finally had to tell her. "Or at least go rinse your mouth."

That was something she could do. That was an order, she could follow an order right now.

Her body didn't really feel like hers as she slowly pushed herself to her feet and stumbled to the ship's tiny 'fresher unit. Somehow she managed to rinse her mouth and wash her face, and even managed to take a few sips of the water before her stomach began to roil again in protest.

Slowly, the Distaffs put themselves together. Jayna kept moving, overseeing the cleanup of the passenger compartment, checking on Ace in the cockpit. Their pilot sat in the seat, curled into a tight ball with her arms around her legs, staring out at the swirling colors of hyperspace.

"Where are we going?" Jayna asked.

Ace shrugged. "Somewhere," she said. "Not back to Coruscant. We'll find somewhere we can hear the news. Maybe we can figure out what's going on, or find other Jedi survivors."

"You think there are any?" She knew only too well that the heads of each Jedi's clone contingent had orders to stay near their Jedi. Was this why? Was all this just some trap for the Jedi?

_The dreams..._

"Ten thousand Jedi, and you think ours were the only ones who got lucky?" Ace shook her head. "No. Someone's gotta be out there. Somewhere."

She wished she could believe that.

She sat in the copilot's seat, joining her sister in staring out at the endless rush of light and color. "This was all a trap, wasn't it?" she asked numbly. "Everything. The war. Us. Someone played everything. The dreams... Ace, the dreams stopped when those kriffing chips came out, and we didn't turn on our Jedi. Someone ordered those chips put in us and I bet that's why."

Ace stared at her, mirroring the same horror that threatened to eat her from the inside. "We were just tools to get at the Jedi, then?" she asked in disbelief. "All this, the war, was to have someone in place to kill all the Jedi at once? Who they wouldn't suspect?" She looked positively green now.

"The Jedi are used to us," she pointed out. She couldn't get her mind of this train of thought now. "They've had us underfoot for three years now. We've never been a danger to them before, so why would they even sense trouble before it happened? And there's a lot more of us than there are them."

"You think the chips and the dreams are part of this?"

"I can't see any other explanation."

Ace stared down at her hands, then shuddered. "I feel like I'll never be clean again," she whispered.

Leaning over, Jayna hugged her sister tight around the shoulders. "Yeah... so do I."

They sat there together, holding one another for several minutes before restlessness overcame Jayna. She hugged Ace again, then made her way back into the passenger compartment to check on the others. Naroko lay against Ayliah, curled into a tight ball, and the Twi'lek Padawan was doing her best to wrap herself protectively around her Master. Both Jedi looked numb. Bullseye and Tink were tucked against their sides, pressed close to provide as much contact as possible while Mercy tended the blaster wound on Ayliah's arm.

She couldn't remember the Jedi looking so small. For her entire life, the Jedi had always loomed large. Part of their training on Kamino had included the need to be close to the Jedi, to be loyal and always at their sides- _So we were in place and trusted and unsuspected when it came time to murder them-_ and after meeting their Jedi, after being rescued from being shunted off into a maintenance position or testing and experimentation to see what had gone wrong with the development of Distaff Squad, after seeing not just _their_ Jedi at work but others, that had only added to their devotion. The Jedi were flawed, conflicted by dual mandates, it was true, but they were, at heart, good people.

On the whole, anyway.

Seeing their general and commander huddled together, broken and bleeding inside, hurt as badly as the knowledge of her brother's betrayal, as the knowledge that she had the blood of vod on her hands.

She stepped forward, then knelt resting one hand on each Jedi's leg. Naroko flinched away from the contact before Jayna realized that she must be feeling the clone's own emotional turmoil through the touch. Quickly she drew her hand away from the Knight, though since Ayliah didn't flinch she left that hand where it was.

"We'll find out what's going on, sirs," she said, trying to put as much conviction into her voice as possible. "And we'll protect you. I promise. We'll always protect you."

"Thank you, Jayna," Ayliah said quietly. Naroko just stared at her, stared through her, from somewhere very far away. "Where are we going?"

"Not entirely sure. I think Ace just threw us into an emergency jump. She wants to go somewhere we can get news. We're gonna figure out what's going on, then figure out where is safe to go." She scrubbed at her face, then ran her hand back over her shaved head, trying to focus. The general and commander needed her to focus, to get them through this, since they were clearly in no condition to manage things on their own.

"We should remove our tattoos," Mercy spoke up. Jayna gave her a puzzled look. "Or at least, Ace does. We look just enough different from our brothers we can probably disappear, but Ace needs to get rid of that Jedi emblem inked all over her face. The rest of us- we might be able to get away with it."

"Ace is gonna _love_ that," Bullseye muttered. Their sister had always been so proud of that mark. She'd insisted on getting it just days after the general had picked their squad for her personal detail.

But if the clones had been turned against the Jedi, it probably was not a great idea to go around with the Order's crest so obviously displayed.

"I'll get a new tattooing kit when we put in somewhere we can find them," she continued. She curled a little closer against Naroko's side, staring off into space.

Jayna nodded. They could change their looks some. That would help. Mercy was right. They did look different from their brothers, the distinctive Fett features softened a little in the five of them. They still _looked_ like they were sisters to the other clones, but the average person wouldn't recognize them as such. They weren't the sort of high-profile unit that garnered much media attention, and in the field all clones looked the same in their armor and helmets. The vast, vast majority of sentients didn't even _know_ that there were five female clones among the millions of male ones. They would turn that fact to their advantage.

They would learn what was going on. They would adapt. They would survive.

They would protect their Jedi.

And the Force help _anyone_ who got in their way.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am blaming this squarely on Tumblr user brothers-all with their amazing and full-of-feels clone blog. And I needed a break from NaNo so here's six pages of feels to share with you. 
> 
> #fivesdeservedbetter


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